


Lunar Effect

by JLencre



Series: Fringe Theory [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Evil Author Day, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 12:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLencre/pseuds/JLencre
Summary: I'm over a month late, but here's my EAD offering. Spoiler: strictly smut. There's not a drop of plot to be found yet. Just take it as proof this series will continue. Happy St. Patrick's day, I guess?Tags will change once I start posting for real, though no promises on when that will be.





	Lunar Effect

As he woke, Peter drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes, his gaze immediately going to the young man sprawled naked beside him, his sleep-relaxed features angled toward Peter. Peter’s lips curled softly. The primitive part of him, which he still thought of as the wolf despite their being healed, gave a contented rumble. In spite of everything he had been through in his life, Peter counted himself blessed by Moon herself to have gained Stiles as his husband and his mate.

“’m San’a’s llama,” Stiles slurred, then smacked his lips together and rolled to his side.

Peter’s smile grew. It hadn’t exactly been a surprise to learn that Stiles talked in his sleep. Peter had thought he might become annoyed with Stiles’ nocturnal mutterings, but it seemed his instincts knew that if Stiles was near and sleeping deeply and calmly enough to speak nonsense, they and their home were safe. “I’m Santa’s llama” would simply be added to the growing list Peter kept for his own amusement.

Rolling to his side and easing behind his mate, Peter traced the smattering of moles and freckles over Stiles’ left shoulder. He was briefly distracted by the glint of his own wedding band in the dim light. It pleased him immensely to know he only had to look at Stiles’ left hand to see the matching ring, since neither of them ever took them off. The only thing better than their matching wedding bands was the bite Stiles wore proudly on his wrist. Now that they were mated, Stiles no longer worried about covering the mark. He was highly protective of it and still refused to allow anyone but Peter to touch it. Not even Stiles’ father was an exception. Peter couldn’t say he minded. The thought of anyone but Stiles touching the mating bite Stiles had given him made him want to bare his fangs and snarl.

Peter edged the blankets down below their hips so he could see more of at Stiles’ lovely fair skin. He ran gentle fingers down his side, feeling and scenting as he went. There weren’t nearly as many hot places where damage beneath the skin was still healing, and he was pleased to see that the bruises that had been nearly black when they’d escaped from the hunters had faded to greenish-yellow.

Peter thought Stiles’ spark might be aiding in the healing, since Stiles’ ribs had shown as healed on the last x-ray Peter had insisted he get. It might be that their bonding was accelerating it too. Either way, he looked forward to the day when Stiles’ body bore no reminder from that dark time in captivity. In Peter’s mind, Stiles should never have bruises unless it was from a particularly athletic bout of sex. He smirked and fitted his hand over matching, light bruising on Stiles’ hip.

Unable to resist, Peter pressed his lips to Stiles’ warm skin in a soft caress. Of course, that wasn’t enough, and he slowly laid down a string of similar kisses all along his mate’s shoulder to his neck. Instinct then demanded he rub his cheek and chin along the sensitive flesh to scent-mark him, even though their scents were already so mixed that the most sensitive nose would have a hard time telling where one ended and the other began.

There was a reason he was clean-shaven now, despite the fashion trend. As Stiles said every time he demanded Peter shave, “Beard-burn is not sexy or comfortable, hubby-wolf.”

Stiles grumbled incoherently and arched his body backward until he was pressed tightly against Peter’s front. He grunted, went lax, and his breathing slowed once more.

Peter slid his arm around Stiles, holding him close with his palm over his sternum, and making another involuntary purring noise. He heard Stiles’ heartrate begin to accelerate, so he knew he had a limited amount of time before his mate woke.

Peter had no doubt whatsoever that he was wearing the foolish, love-struck expression he’d often mocked others for in the past. He didn’t care. He could look foolish all he wanted in their apartment, especially when Stiles was asleep and couldn’t tease him about being cuddly-wolf or anything even more atrocious. In that respect, Stiles definitely was still the teenager his usual behavior when not around other teenagers belied.

Stiles’ fingers twitched, and his legs shifted. He took a snuffling breath and rubbed his face against the pillow. The mate bond between lying quiescent between them seemed to wake as Stiles did, radiating sleepy contentment back and forth between them.

Stiles yawned and stretched, squirming deliciously before going limp.

The bond picked up a flicker of playfulness, and Stiles hmm’d. “Gonna fuck me?”

He shoved his ass against Peter’s half-hard cock. Peter stilled.

“Maybe,” he rumbled, going from half-hard to completely hard instantly. He smirked. Ah, the delights of a young mate who loved sex at any time of the day or night.

“M’kay.” Stiles wiggled his ass and slid his top leg forward. “’m prolly still relaxed from last night.”

Peter nuzzled the soft spot behind Stiles’ ear and palmed Stiles’ ass, slipping two fingers into the silken channel to test the give. Stiles raised his knee to allow him more room. He moaned when Peter added a third finger.

“Okay?”

Stiles squirmed. “Mmm yeah, fuck me.”

Peter withdrew his fingers, now wet with lube and come, which he used to slick his own cock before he eased into place and slid into Stiles in a long, slow stroke.

Stiles moaned again and hitched his ass back, trying to take him deeper.

Peter rolled them both onto their stomachs and knelt up, pulling Stiles’ hips up at the same time. The change of angle meant he could give Stiles that extra inch he was so determined to have inside him. Stiles loved taking Peter’s cock deep inside, and Peter was more than happy to oblige.

Stiles clumsily batted the pillows out of the way but didn’t bother to lift up onto his elbows. Instead, he stretched out and crossed his arms under his head. No doubt he knew Peter would hold up his hips, so the brat didn’t have to do any of the work at all. He got to lie there, eyes closed, as Peter fucked them both to completion.

Starting a slow rhythm, Peter mock-growled, “Lazy creature.”

He knew Stiles could feel through their bond how much he liked seeing his mate relaxed and trusting.

“Feels so good,” Stiles mumbled.

He didn’t bothering to open his eyes as Peter began to roll his hips in a slow pace, pausing to grind against Stiles’ ass and rub the head of his cock directly against Stiles’ prostate. Stiles’ breath hitched, and he trembled.

“You get to do the work next time.”

Stiles raised his head enough that he could shoot Peter a sly look over his shoulder, and Peter knew he was in trouble. Mischievous Stiles was always hell on his self-control.

“Don’t you like fucking me? I want you to fuck me hard, my wolf,” he crooned and flexed his internal muscles. “Love having your dick inside me, filling me better than anything else ever did. Want your dick, want your come.”

Peter snarled, his hips juddering as he fought off orgasm. He couldn’t regret that Stiles was so delightfully willing to play to Peter’s human and wolf sides, even if it did mean he came faster than he had even when he’d been a teenager.

“Mine! My mate,” he snarled, forcing Stiles’ upper body flat against the mattress with one hand splayed between his shoulders.

Stiles gave a throaty moan when Peter started fucking into him with deep, hard strokes. Far from protesting the rough treatment, he spread his legs wider and angled his head to bare his neck submissively.

Everything gained a slightly red cast, and Peter knew his eyes were Alpha red. Stiles noticed. Of course he did, the wretch.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Stiles panted, his scent saturated in musky arousal and salty precome and sweat. “My Peter, my wolf, mark me so everyone knows I’m yours.”

Competitive as usual, even during sex—or maybe especially during sex, Stiles mock-struggled against Peter’s hold, begging turned to taunting challenges.

“What if somebody sees me and wants me? What if they’re hotter than you, Peter? Think I should see if some big, sexy alpha-wolf can fuck me better than you?”

“MINE!” Peter snarled furiously and jerked Stiles back hard, succeeding in angling his ass up so Peter nailed his prostate. The unrelenting stimulation forced sharp, helpless sounds from his mate with every thrust. Stiles was still winning, though. The wicked creature _knew_ those noises drove Peter’s wolf crazy, made him desperate to pin him down and mate him thoroughly.

Giving in to lust and wolf instinct, as Stiles no doubt intended, Peter licked the sweat from Stiles’ skin and set too-sharp teeth against the back of his neck, holding without piercing the delicate skin. He pinned Stiles’ wrists to the bed and started snapping his hips, his thrusts turning hard and fast. It was an act of dominance that thrilled the basest part of Peter’s lupine nature, and he started a continuous rumbling that made Stiles shudder hard.

Stiles’ channel fluttered around Peter’s cock as his mate tried to delay his own orgasm. He gave a loud, submissive whine and let his upper half go completely limp while he kept his ass angled high. Peter’s control over his claws slipped, and he had to let go of Stiles’ wrists in order to dig his fingers into the mattress instead. He would have mourned the destruction of yet another mattress if he’d had the capacity to think. As it was, he reveled in his mate’s submission and their combined pleasure.

Stiles was trembling and whimpering helplessly, so close to coming that Peter could taste the energy gathering beneath his skin.

“Come in me! Peter, please!” Stiles gasped desperately. “ _Alpha, mate me!”_

Game. Fucking. Over.

Peter was lost in the lightning storm of ecstasy that had him hunching tightly over his mate, his muscles locking from clenched jaw to clawed fingers and toes. Only his lower abdomen moved, flexing with each surge of come into Stiles’ tight heat, marking him as Peter’s from the inside out.

The metallic taste of his mate’s blood finally snapped him out of the mindless haze.

Peter raised his head and blinked rapidly several times. His wolf traits shifted smoothly back to human. He licked his lips, again tasting Stiles’ blood. Concerned, Peter shifted onto his forearms. Still not entirely in control, Peter found himself rumbling while lapping the blood from Stiles’ neck where his fangs had just barely broken the skin.

Stiles lay boneless beneath him, smelling of smugness and both their come, so Peter was certain he’d enjoyed himself.

“Alright?” he panted.

Stiles opened one eye and hummed his satisfaction.

“’m _awesome._ ”

Peter huffed and rolled them both back to their sides. He rescued one pillow for himself and maneuvered Stiles’ limp body so his sweaty head was pillowed on Peter’s bicep.

“Hmm, well, you might not think so when people ask you about the back of your neck.”

Stiles huffed a laugh. “Why? ‘m I gonna turn?”

Peter was caught by surprise by Stiles’ lack of concern. He’d been quite clear about wanting to remain human previously, but now Peter smelled nothing from his mate but sated contentment. The bond between them fairly hummed with matching emotion.

“No. There was no intent behind the bite other than holding my mate, my _prey_ in place.”

Now that Peter was one with his wolf and more sane than he’d been since childhood, the bite would require intent to transmit the wolf spark. Without intent, his fangs were merely another weapon.

Stiles snickered. “’kay. Then I’ll jus’ tell ‘em the big, bad wolf bit me.”

“Brat,” Peter scolded fondly.

A part of him reveled in knowing that his mate wasn't ashamed of him and wasn't afraid to show the marks he left on his body. Peter was perfectly aware he was a possessive bastard, especially when it came to Stiles. It was a good thing Stiles was the same way. Peter had caught him looking at the mating bite on his shoulder and smiling smugly more than once.

Without opening his eyes, Stiles captured Peter’s hand from where he was rubbing Stiles’ come into his stomach. He kissed Peter’s wrist and laced their fingers together.

“Yeah, but I’m _your_ brat.”

Peter smirked and pressed another kiss to Stiles’ shoulder.

“That you are, darling. Just as I'm yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> I picked a fandom my beta isn't very familiar with! Oh no! Anybody know TW canon really well and wanna play trampoline...aka let me bounce ideas off you? Shoot me an email: JLencre AT gmail DOT com


End file.
